“Yeah, there's a lot of that going around tonight,” Buster replied. “Just so we're all clear, the next time someone is hiding drugs in their boots or indulging a little too often, something needs to be said. Something needs to be done before we get where we are. Right now we cannot afford to be down a man, even with the prospects, but we are. So, we're going to get his system clean, and where we go from there is up to him.”
“I'll stay with him. Make sure that he's locked down tight,” Ace offered. “Rock, give me a hand with him. Get his feet. Sorry that I knocked him out before you could ask him your questions, Buster.”
“Don't apologize. We've got plenty of time for questions.”
<#<#<#<#
Buster felt the sun pounding down on his face. The heat was rising. It was going to be a scorcher, he could tell. And Caroline had picked a restaurant with tables on the sidewalk for breakfast. He'd driven past the place several times, never stopped to try it. He checked his phone. She was late, only by a few minutes, but he was taking it as a very bad sign. Maybe she wasn't even going to show.
And then he saw her. She waved as she noticed him notice her. He was content to just watch her. He liked the way she moved and the way that the thin-strapped dress she was wearing moved with her. It wasn't a slinky number. It flowed around her but gave him a nice view of her chest. Buster felt a stir as he rose to meet her. “You look beautiful.”
“Thanks. I need to do laundry, so it was this or my bathing suit.”
“Either way, you'd have looked just as lovely as you do now.” Buster watched her blush as she sat down. “How's your day been so far?”
“Jillian came back. Packed a couple of bags and left again. Said that she's going to go stay with Jake. Said that she needs some time, that Jake told her she shouldn't make a rash decision.” She shrugged her shoulders. “It surprised me a little, but I still think that he's a douche. Anyway, how has yours been?”
Buster recalled watching Edge writhe on the bed as if he were having seizures. “Nothing much has happened so far. I've got to admit, I was surprised that you decided to come.”
“So was I.” She began to toy with the bracelets that she was wearing. “I wanted to know if you talked to Edge.”
“I haven't gotten an answer from him yet,” Buster replied. It wasn't a lie. “He's pretty miserable after last night.”
“And you let a hangover stop you from asking him?” She narrowed her eyes. “If it's just some club stuff and you can't talk about that, just say it. Remember?”
“It's some club stuff.” Buster waited for a follow-up question but there was none. Instead, she reached for the menu. “You have plans today?”
“I'm going to the garden for a while. I've got some books I downloaded ready to be read.” She shrugged her shoulders. “How about you?”
It was likely that the majority of his day would be spent in a room that smelled like vomit, trying to get anything he could out of a man who would feel like he was being torn apart on the inside. “We've been doing some renovating at the bar. Figured I'd spend some time at that.”
“Sounds like a busman's holiday,” she teased.
“It is, just a little. What about later? Like dinner time? Got any plans then?”
“Two meals in one day? Careful Buster, I might start to get the vibe that you want to be serious.” She studied the menu as if it held the secrets to the world.
“I don't know about serious, but I know that I like you.” Buster decided to be straight with her. “Last time I had a serious girlfriend, it was a while ago. A long while ago. And I haven't been looking. I haven't liked anyone the way I like you in a while.”
“I was engaged not that long ago. The lawyer? He was my fiancé. I had the big ring and everything. Anyway, I loved him, or thought I did, trusted him. It wasn't love, and I was stupid to trust him. While I planned our wedding and future, he started fucking and fell in love with my best friend.” She looked down at the table. “I stayed in bed so long, I lost everything that I had. Everything. I ended up back at my parents' house. I thought I'd die.”
“He was an asshole.”
“Yeah, he was. That's not the point or why I'm telling you, though at this point, I don't know what's possessing me to spill all of this shit. Anyway, it took a long time before I could get out of bed and start living again. Once I was on the mend, my parents decided that they were going to live their dream and go to Florida. They wanted me to go with them. Instead, I moved into Detroit. Ended up at Baked and then I met you. And I felt something. It's why I called you when Wayne flipped out.”
“Caroline...”
“Let me finish. Please. Let me finish.” She set the menu down. “And you came and you made it clear that you felt something, too. And you say that you didn't bag me as part of some challenge, but then you tell me that you don't know about serious. So, what is it you want? A fuck partner? If that's the case, breakfast is on me, because I'm not built like that.”
“And how are you built, Caroline?” Buster asked.
“I'm still figuring that out, but I guess I want to know that there's a possibility, not a guarantee, of a future.” She signaled for the waitress. “We should order. I'm hungry.”
The waitress came over, took their orders and promised to return right away. Buster used the time to think, to consider what she'd said. The possibility of something with Caroline appealed to him more than he'd have thought that it would. It stirred something inside of him. She stirred something inside of him. And even though she was sitting right across from him, he knew that it was going to be a hard task to get her to try for that possibility with him, because of what Edge had said.
The waitress returned with their coffee and a glass of water for Caroline. Buster took a sip; the coffee was just how he liked it, strong and black. He watched with some amusement as Caroline added sugar and a precise amount of cream to hers. She noticed his eyes on her. “Sorry, I'm pretty particular about my coffee. Too much cream and I might as well be drinking milk. Unless it's Irish, in that case, I'm pretty heavy-handed.”
“I'll remember that. Might not offer to fix your coffee for you, though. I'd probably get it wrong.” Buster smiled over at her.
“Probably,” she agreed.
“I'm probably going to get a lot of stuff wrong if we try for a possibility.” Buster didn't see a point in dancing around the issue that they needed to discuss the most.
“Probably,” she repeated, but this time she smiled, and it gave him hope. “The stuff that Jillian told me keeps echoing in my mind, Buster. I can't even try to deny that.” Caroline tapped her nails against her coffee cup. “I also can't deny that I feel something for you. It made me feel stupid to hear about the challenges. I do not like feeling stupid. Not at all. I just don't understand why Edge would lie.”
“Edge has some issues. Issues with drugs.” Buster wasn't going to give her specifics but he needed to give her something. “And it's becoming a problem, which is all I can say.”
“That doesn't surprise me. Their father was heavy into drugs.”
“What do you know about their father?” Buster asked.
“He was as crazy as a shit house rat. Like those people who bury bunkers in their back yards while waiting for a nuclear bomb, solar storm or some other extinction-level event,” Caroline replied. They both fell quiet as the waitress approached with their meals.
Buster waited until she'd placed the plates, refilled their coffee and moved away from the table. “Did she tell you he was abusive?”
“Not in those words, but I put together the pieces. She's pretty skittish.” Caroline picked up her fork. “Do you want some of my omelet?”
“Spinach and tomatoes aren't really my thing. Not to mention that cheese.”
“It's feta cheese and it's delicious,” she informed him.
“I'll take your word on it. You want some pancakes?” Buster offered.
“They do look good, but only if you're not going to eat them all.” She mad
e room on her plate. “Do you think that Edge told Jillian what he did because he was high? Where would he even get that idea?”
Buster had a good idea where Edge had gotten the idea. Train used to have a thing for chasing women who didn't want them and losing interest the moment he'd gotten them. It was the chase that excited him more than the catch. “I don't know where he got the idea. I've never done that. I never would. And I don't know, maybe he was high. Maybe he just wanted to keep her away from Ace. He was never happy that Ace had eyes for her. I'm going to find out, though.”
“Are you going to hurt him?” she asked, and he was surprised that her mind had gone right there.
“Why would you ask that?”
“I highly doubt that Nightshade deals with their problems by talking things out while holding a feeling stick and then hugging at the end.”
Buster chuckled. No. If a stick was involved it would certainly be a weapon. “You're right. We don't. He's going to get what's coming to him, and that's all that I can say. It's going to be his choice.” And it would be. Edge could choose to stay clean, or he could choose to be turned away from Nightshade or worse.
“That sounds a little grim.” Caroline fiddled with her fork. “But it's an honest answer. Thank you for that.”
“You're welcome, Sweetheart.” Buster cut into his pancakes and placed half the stack on the plate his toast had come on. “You like syrup?” He grinned when she blushed. “Did your mind just go to a dirty place over syrup?”
“Maybe,” she replied coyly. “And yes, I do like syrup. Lots of sweet, sticky syrup.” She reached for the syrup, poured on a liberal amount and swiped her finger through it.
Buster felt himself go rock hard as she sucked her finger into her mouth. “Now you're just being cruel.”
“If I wanted to be cruel,” she smirked, “I'd tell you that I'm not wearing any underwear.”
<#<#<#<#
Edge was in rough shape, tied to the bed, stripped naked and on top of blue absorbent pads so that any accident he had wouldn't stain the mattress beneath. He was capable of speaking, though, and of screaming. Mostly he just screamed and flailed. He hadn't started to cry yet, but Buster knew that it was coming.
He'd watched a withdrawal like this once before, another brother who had fallen prey to the needle and despite all their best effort, he'd died with a needle in his arm three months after he'd gotten clean. His name hadn't been spoken since. He'd dishonored Nightshade, turned his back on the brotherhood to chase whatever high he could find. Buster wasn't exactly sure that Edge would end up any differently.
“Drink some of this,” Ace ordered as he approached the man on the bed with a cup and a straw. “Just a little, you're probably going to throw it all right back up, but you need to stay hydrated.”
“Fuck you.” Edge wasn't capable of saying much that made sense, but he was still able to swear just fine.
“Drink it or I'll go and watch some educational videos online and figure out how to give you an IV. I can guarantee that won't be a pleasant experience for you.” Ace won the battle for the moment with that threat. Edge drank. “Now, it's time for some questions. Who's your dealer? One of Manuel's guys?” Buster wasn't surprised when Edge didn't answer. He was also disappointed, because it made his gut feeling that this was going to end badly deepen.
Ace was still asking the questions, with a little more force and frustration in his voice, when Train came through the door. He had a mile-wide smile on his face. “My junkie, still the oldest living junkie I've ever met, came through. The blue bag is something new. It's called Binky. He said he's tried it twice. Once, it was the smoothest fucking thing in the world, but the second time, it kicked like a mule. He lost his shit in the middle of McDonald's and got thrown into psych holding.”
“Binky.” Buster didn't know where people came up with these names. It took a special sort of freaks to decide to name a killer drug after a child’s pacifier. “Where'd he get it from? Who did he get it from?”
“Now that's the really interesting part. It was given to him by some random guy when he was in some squatter house, both doses. The first one was a powder. The second one was a pill.”
“He know the guy?” Ace asked.
“Said he was a clown. Don't fucking ask me what that means as a description, but it's got to be a new crew. You don't hand out product like that for shits and giggles, you do it to build a client base and send a message.”
“They're trying to make a name for themselves,” Buster added. “And they're organized enough to hit The Street Kings to take out their main competition. Now they're going to get the junkies hooked.” He couldn't help but look over to where Edge was. The man had stopped screaming and struggling. He was listening intently but not saying a word. “We all know that once a junkie is hooked, they'll find a way to score. Train, grab the prospects and start talking to people. See if we can't get a better description than a clown with a fucking candy bowl. Ace, you and Rock stay here on Edge. Press him as hard as you need to. I want answers.”
They needed answers. They needed to know how Edge had gotten the drugs. It wasn't likely he'd been hanging in the numerous squatter houses that were nothing more than drug dens. If they could get him to talk, they'd get a better description than a clown, and maybe, just maybe, they could get ahead of this new crew, stop them before things really went to hell. If they couldn't get him to talk, well, then Edge wasn't going to have himself a happy ending. He'd lose more than just his patch and ink, he'd lose his life. Chances were, he'd lose his life even if he did talk.
Chapter Ten
Monday dragged the way that Monday always did. It wasn't even four o'clock, but Caroline was ready to go home and get in bed. She stifled a yawn as she answered the phone. “RBS. How can I help you?”
“You weren't answering your phone.” Buster's voice sent a familiar tingle through her. “You getting out at five today?”
“Yes.”
“Can I pick you up? Give you a ride home?”
She hadn't seen him since they'd had lunch on Saturday, but they'd spoken once and sent several flirty texts. “That works for me.” It also made her very very glad that she'd worn pants to work instead of the dress she'd originally grabbed out of the closet. Being too lazy to shave had, for once, paid off. “I'd offer to make you dinner, but it'd be kind of awkward. Jillian came home this morning.”
“How did that go?”
“She asked me to have dinner with her and Jake tomorrow night. Said that maybe we just need to get to know one another better. I said yes because what else was I supposed to say?” Caroline sighed. She'd rather get a full bikini wax than a have night of small talk with Jake and Jillian.
“You should have asked her if you could bring a date. I'd like to meet this Jake guy.”
“I don't think that Jillian will go for that. She's just a smidge anti-Nightshade at the moment.”
“I can't imagine why.” He laughed. “What if I cook you dinner?”
“Would it come out of a microwave?” Caroline asked. She clearly remembered him saying that he didn't cook.
“No microwave. I can manage spaghetti and sauce. So, yes or no? I've got to go.”
“Yes, to both the ride home and dinner cooked by you. I'll see you at five.” Caroline hung up the phone and felt more energized than she had since she'd gotten out of bed this morning. The phone rang again, and work occupied her time until she realized it was just about five. She buzzed into Ryan's office, where she knew for a fact he was playing video games and not actually working. “I'm getting ready to walk out the door. You want me to flip the closed sign?”
“Nah. Fuck this game,” he replied. “I'll be right out. See you in the morning. I'll stop for coffee and doughnuts on my way in.”
“Your fondness for doughnuts has put five pounds on my ass,” Caroline complained.
“I'll bring you some boring-ass fruit. How does that sound?”
“Perfect. See you in the morning, Ryan.” She
grabbed her purse, her phone, and tried to remember if she was forgetting anything. Caroline took a moment to still her shaky hands, told herself that she was being silly. This was just another date with Buster. Maybe it was the fact that they were dating again, even after what Edge had told Jillian, that had her unsettled. It was easier to believe that Buster was telling the truth now that she knew Edge was getting high. Drugs really fucked a person up. She'd seen that with Wayne.
The street outside the building supply company was relatively busy. The neighborhood had been fortunate. It had survived even if there were a few more empty stores than before. She sat down on the bench Ryan used during his smoke breaks and checked her watch. Caroline was a few minutes early, so she pulled the book she habitually kept in her bag out and started to read.
The story was good, interesting enough for her not to realize that the minutes were ticking by. When she finally checked the time, it was nearly half past five. She remembered the first time that she was supposed to have dinner with Buster and he'd had to cancel because of Nightshade things. He'd called that time. He hadn't called yet so Caroline decided to call him.
“Hey, it's me. It's after five so I'm figuring that you got caught up with something or you decided that you really didn't want to make me spaghetti. Anyway, call me when you get this. I'm going to head home. I should be able to catch the bus. Bye.” The bus stop was two blocks down. Caroline started to walk, her thoughts on Buster.
At first, she didn't think that the incessant beep of a car horn was intended for her, but then someone called her name. “Caroline!”
She turned, saw Jake and had to stop herself from an eye roll. Instead, she lifted her hand and waved. “Hey Jake.” She hoped that would be the end of it, but he pulled his car over to the curb. “Hi,” she repeated.
Through The Weeds (Nightshade MC Book 2) Page 12